a firmness at which she was the first to be amazed. "I thought you 'adored' him."
"I do," Mrs. Wix sturdily allowed.
"Then have you suddenly begun to adore her too?"
Mrs. Wix, instead of directly answering, only blinked in support of her sturdiness. "My dear, in what a tone you ask that! You 're coming out."
"Why shouldn't I? You've come out. Mrs. Beale has come out. We each have our turn!" And Maisie threw off the most extraordinary little laugh that had ever passed her young lips.
There passed Mrs. Wix's indeed the next moment a sound that more than matched it. "You 're most remarkable!" she neighed.
Her pupil faltered a few seconds. "I think you 've done a great deal to make me so."
"Very true—I have." She dropped to humility, as if she recalled her so recent self-arraignment.
"Would you accept her, then? That's what I ask," said Maisie.
"As a substitute?" Mrs. Wix turned it over; she met again the child's eyes. "She has literally almost fawned upon me."
